


A Miracle

by orphan_account



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Implied Relationships, M/M, Post Reichenbach
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-16
Updated: 2012-01-16
Packaged: 2017-10-29 17:19:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/322264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[...] It's the littlest things that crush us to pieces, that make us fall apart. [...]</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Miracle

**Author's Note:**

> I just have a lot of Sherlock feelings right now. TT__TT

Life's a funny thing, don't you think?  
The way it twists and turns and screams and throbs. Sometimes it's hard to keep up with it, sometimes it's vibrantly too much.  
I look at things.  
They remind me of you.  
And it's the smallest things, the stupidest things, the most useless of things, the ones _you_ 'd always look at, the ones I force myself to notice now.  
The ones you used to overanalize and understand and unravel.  
The most irrelevant.  
The most painful ones.  
It's the littlest things that crush us to pieces, that make us fall apart.  
It's the pair of socks you absent-mindedly start putting away after the wash, the pair of socks you suddenly realize - cold air in the lungs, sharp blow to the back - belong to no one now.  
The violin hasn't been played in what feels like a lifetime - days drip by slowly without you.  
I laugh sometimes, but it hurts to breathe.  
Suddenly, I stop and stare at my hands. It's become a habit of mine: I narrate my life in my head, and it's as if I were telling you what's going on. You're not here to listen, so I catch myself, and stop. Pretend it's just a quirk, pretend it's not the only thing that keeps me going.   
Sometimes I wonder if our lives could've been different.   
Sometimes I wonder how it would feel to know that I was your everything, the way you were to me.  
Because there was you - there still _is_  you, deep inside of me: hidden away, where no one can hurt you - and then there's the rest of the world, and outside it's scary.  
With you, I felt safe. It was your voice that soothed my nightmares, the twinkle in your eye.  
I love you.  
As a friend. As something more.  
There's things I should've said, things I'll never have the chance to say again.  
There's emptiness right now, emptiness where you once stood. Emptiness inside me, emptiness when I eat, when I sleep. Every time I breathe.  
Every time I speak, and I know you're not there to listen.  
The emptiness that makes me scream.

I asked for a miracle. A Miracle, with the capital M and all that.   
Those Miracles that happen once in a lifetime.  
Those Miracles you always said didn't exist.


End file.
